


laugh, kookaburra, laugh

by jay (tofupofu)



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Explicit Consent, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Pegging, Polyamory, Porn With Plot, Smut, angst is used VERY loosely here. it's like. barely angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:22:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21974272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tofupofu/pseuds/jay
Summary: Falling in love again can't be this easy. Except... maybe it is.ORRichie sleeps with all of the Losers. He's not complaining.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon/Ben Hanscom/Eddie Kaspbrak/Beverly Marsh/Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris, The Losers Club/Richie Tozier, The Losers Club/The Losers Club (IT)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 159





	laugh, kookaburra, laugh

**Author's Note:**

> this is mostly just for shits and giggles, and also because i wanted to see actual content where bev pegs her boy(s). this is mostly porn, with a few non-porn scenes sprinkled throughout. i did not get a beta writer because this is honestly my first time writing smut i didn't immediately hate and the less i look at it before posting the better

_kookaburra sits in the old gum tree_

_mighty, mighty king of the bush is he_

_;)_

**I: Eddie Kaspbrak**

After they beat the clown the second time ‘round, Richie decides it’s his turn to start being brave.

Eddie’s eyes blink open after his third consecutive day in the hospital and Richie kisses him immediately, desperately, remembering far too late that he’s probably in a lot of pain and not in the mood. Eddie relaxes, though, cups the back of Richie’s head (sort of) and tries to kiss back. Richie’s bent over Eddie’s bed for God knows how long before his back starts to ache, so he pulls away first.

Eddie hums and when he speaks, he sounds like he doesn’t have full control of his mouth. “God, I’m gonna hate it when I wake up."

Richie blinks. “You’re awake right now, shit for brains.” _God_ , he just _had_ to go and ruin a perfectly good kiss, didn’t he?

“Nice try, Dream-Richie,” Eddie says, laughing to himself. Richie wonders how much morphine they’ve got him on. Probably a lot, judging by how fucked up his chest had been.

Richie sits back in his chair and grumbles. “Great. Now I’ve gotta kiss you every time you wake up until you believe I’m actually kissing you.”

“And? Like you’re complaining,” Eddie points out.

Richie chuckles. “You taste like hospital smell.”

“Ew. Hospital smell,” Eddie says, which makes them both laugh. Richie laughs until he cries, or maybe he’s just crying, because this is the first time he’s seen Eddie awake in _three days_ and he almost _died_. The doctors said he _might_ make a full recovery, but in any eventuality, their lives have been changed _forever_.

“Woah, woah--” Eddie brings his arm up and pats Richie on the shoulder. It’s weird, because Eddie’s moving in a weird, disjointed, not-quite-there-yet way, but Richie takes it as a comfort, “It’s gonna be okay, Dream-Richie. Ditchie.”

Apparently, everything’s hilarious to Eddie right now, because he laughs again. Richie sighs, decides it’s time for their private session to end, and hits the call button because the nurses should probably know he’s awake. He texts the Losers, too, because he’s not a monster.

**RICHIE:** eddie’s up nd kicking

**BEV:** OMW

**BEN:** how is he? Bev’s driving

Richie sighs. His head hurts. He kind of just wants to curl up and sleep forever. He also kind of forgets to text Ben back, and all of a sudden the entire Losers club is there, sans Stan--Richie laughs inwardly as his genius wordplay--is in the room, all having a collective heart attack.

With Eddie properly taken care of and entertaining four other people in his high-as-a-kite state, Richie curls up on the bench by the window and _sleeps_.

Eddie comes home and the Losers come home and even Stan comes home, eventually. They all go out to Ben’s place in fuck-all Montana and there’s… there’s something going on. A tension between them all. Stan makes a full recovery, Eddie makes a… mostly full recovery. The pincer-tentacle-- _thing_ didn’t puncture any internal organs, but it did crack open Eddie’s L-1 vertebrae like a peanut shell, so he’s having some difficulty walking. It doesn’t hurt him, it’s just a lot of effort.

Richie keeps kissing Eddie, though. It’s become his favorite pastime, easily blowing “annoying Eddie” right out of the water. Eddie kisses like he talks, a little anxious, a little fast, and it’s _perfect_.

Ben likes to design houses for families, but weird families that want bedrooms at opposite ends of the house, which works for the Losers because Bev and Ben start making out like, daily. It’s not like Eddie and Richie are any better, but Bev is _loud_. Ben also makes ramps for Eddie, even as Eddie protests that he doesn’t need to get in anyone’s way.

One night, while they’re making out in the bed they share, Eddie gets it into his head that it would be a good idea to drop his hand down from where it usually sits on Richie’s waistline. Richie feels a little doubt creep into his mind, even as his body _begs_ for him to just shut the fuck up and get laid.

“Have you even ever had sex with a man before?” Richie asks, brain working too fast for his filter to catch up. Not that he has much of a filter anyway, but.

“I--what does that have to do with anything?” Eddie says, looking equal parts irritated and anxious, “Is there like, a secret code or something? Do you even count as a man?”

Richie can’t help it. He laughs so hard he just about pisses himself. “You got me there, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“That’s it, boner gone, no sex for Richie tonight,” Eddie says, moving like he’s going to get out of bed. “You’re lucky that clown didn’t break my boner muscles and here you are, wasting the opportunity.”

“No!” Richie pleads, still laughing, “Please, I can be sexy, I can be mature.”

“I don’t think you’d know mature if it made you do your taxes at gunpoint,” Eddie laughs, turning around and kissing Richie deeply and soundly, “For the record, though, I’m pretty goddamn sure I know what I want.”

Richie kisses back. “Then take your shirt off.”

“You first!” Eddie demands, like he’s got anything to be self-conscious about. Richie’s seen him without his shirt on, at the hospital. He knows Eddie’s ripped.

Richie does as he’s told with a huff. He pauses and looks over, and pauses some more when he sees Eddie’s wide eyes. “I--I know it’s not much to look at, but--”

“Are you kidding?” Eddie shakes his head, “You’re hot, dude.”

Richie blinks, absolutely dumbfounded. “What?”

“I mean, I guess I’m into body hair, then,” Eddie snorts, “Never thought about that before. I mean it! You’re soft and cuddly.”

Eddie strips off his own shirt, revealing his entire perfect torso. He’s got a fresh scar from the skin grafts, but he’s cleared for light physical activity, thank _God_.

“Lucky me,” Richie grins, moving over to touch Eddie’s abs before he can stop himself. On his way to hesitating, Richie reminds himself that they are actively going to have sex and he’s probably allowed--and encouraged--to touch Eddie as much as possible. His hands skirt over Eddie’s skin, which is soft and smooth except where it folds and wrinkles, and it feels like a dream. Eddie kisses him, and Richie brushes a thumb over Eddie’s nipple.

They strip the rest of the way, and Richie pulls Eddie close. They’re kissing, and it’s gentle now. Richie wants to take care of him. “Tell me if anything feels like, super good, or super bad.”

Eddie nods, and Richie’s hands move lower, teasing him a little, and it takes Eddie all of five seconds to get impatient. “If you don’t touch me, I’m going to leave the room and go fuck Bill.”

So Richie does, he strokes Eddie gently, pausing and twisting his wrist just _so_. Eddie gasps and leans into it. Richie kisses down Eddie’s jaw, sucking a hickey into his neck.

“How are you doing?” Richie asks.

Eddie glares at him. “It’s not sexy to ask me things like that while your hand is on my dick.”

“It is if you make it,” Richie says simply, wondering how he managed to have a better relationship with sex than the hottest man on the planet, “I want you to be comfortable.”

Richie says this in a low voice, his mouth by Eddie’s ear, and Eddie honest-to-God _shivers_. “I’m comfortable, I’m very comfortable.”

“Good,” Richie purrs, his free hand coming up to tease Eddie’s nipples again. They kiss, hot and languid.

“Speed it up a little,” Eddie says, breathy. Richie feels a jolt of lust run through him and he flicks his wrist faster, kissing Eddie’s chin as he moans. To his surprise, Eddie reaches forward and touches Richie’s dick, uncertain but definitely not unwelcome.

Eddie comes undone overwhelmingly fast after that. Richie feels him arch into his touch and Eddie’s coming all over Richie’s stomach. Richie follows after him almost immediately because that was the hottest thing he’s ever seen. It feels good, it feels _amazing_ , the waves leave him trembling a little. It’s the best sex he’s ever had, and it was just a handjob where Eddie wasn’t even trying that hard.

They breathe for a little, trying to recover, and then Eddie says, “We’re disgusting. Come take a shower with me.”

If Richie wasn’t forty, he might have popped another boner right then and there. But he joined Eddie in the shower and they kissed some more and Eddie even washed Richie’s hair because he said it was _greasy as fuck_. Richie didn’t mind, though. They had to get situated because Eddie couldn’t stand up any more, so he sat on the shower bench, and Richie sat on the floor.

Eddie’s hands were strong and Ben had like, and endless supply of hot water apparently, and it felt so mind-numbingly good that Richie didn’t care that it wasn’t sex. After twenty-seven years, Richie finally found something that was just as good, if not better, than the quick fucks he’d had after shows. He could never hold onto a relationship before, and now he cursed himself for even trying. This, _this_ was better than anything he could have ever asked for. The feeling of Eddie combing his fingers through Richie’s hair, pulling shampoo and conditioner through his curls, this was all he ever needed for the rest of his life.

Of course, Richie had a tendency to only see what was right in front of him.

**II: Ben Hanscom**

There was a fight. Just the one, before they figured it out. 

It was Ben and Bev, so they’re quiet about it. It’s the strangest fight Richie’s ever seen. His whole life, fights meant slamming doors, breaking glass, throwing things at each other. Here, there’s not even sarcasm. It’s not mean, it’s not even really _angry_.

Richie realizes he’s not supposed to be here around the thirty second mark. By then, it’s far too late.

“It’s okay,” Ben says, wiping furiously at his face, “I’m not. I’m not mad, I promise. I just--you don’t have to pretend to be in love with me.”

“I’m not pretending!” Bev insists, hand on Ben’s shoulder, “I really love you. I just--”

“You just also love Bill,” Ben sighs, “It’s not--it’s okay. You don’t have to make that choice. I’m letting you know it’s okay to have him.”

Bev looks like she’s about to cry, and Richie decides he’s had enough.

“She could just have both,” He suggests, and they jump, whirling around to look at him. Richie realizes then that maybe this was a private conversation.

“I mean--” Richie’s voice begins to speed up to compensate for the fact that he’s clearly intruding, “I guess it’s really up to you guys and it’s not normal but we’ve all clearly got something special and it doesn’t mean she loves you any less she just also loves Bill and--”

“Richie, honey,” Bev says, laughing lightly, “It’s okay.”

Ben looks over at Bev, studying her face. He tries to speak for a few seconds, sounding a little lost, but eventually he says, “Okay.”

Bev smiles and kisses the living daylights out of Ben. “I do love you. You know that, right?”

Ben nods, and Bev wipes away the tears falling down his face. Richie wonders vaguely if he just solved a personal problem. He’s happy for them, but mostly he’s in shock that he managed to have any interpersonal skills at all.

That’s the one fight, because Bev calls a family meeting after that. She stands at the dining room table that seats fourteen, looking like Darth Vader parading around her collection of Generals.

“What’s this about?” Stan huffs, “I was in the middle of something.”

“You were in the middle of gardening with Mike,” Bev deadpans, “It’ll be fine. I had a very interesting conversation with Ben and Richie this morning.”

She pauses for dramatic effect. “I think we’re all in love with each other. Or something like that.”

“What,” Mike says, dumbfounded.

Bev sits at the head of the table. “I mean, I’m in love with all of you, at least.”

“Okay? And?” Bill crosses his arms, looking a little too hopeful for his own good.

“It’s--Richie said we can all have each other,” Bev shrugs, losing a little steam, “Uh. So, yeah. Like a seven-way relationship, I guess?”

There’s a resounding _oh_ around the table. Nobody disagrees or complains, though.

Richie’s thoroughly surprised when Ben knocks on his door that night. “Hey, Rich.”

“What’s up, Benjamin Button?” Richie asks, grinning.

Ben flushes all the way out to his ears, a trait that’s somehow endearing and sexy at the same time. “I want--uh--I guess--I’ve never--”

“What are you saying?”

“I want you to sex me!” Ben stutters out, “I want to have fuck!”

They stand there for a minute, Ben’s ears growing redder, and then Richie laughs so hard his chest hurts.

“What’s happening?” Eddie asks sleepily from the bed.

“I just…” Ben takes a breath, “I’ve never had sex with a man before. It’s--I guess it’s experimentation, but I figured you’d be the best person since you suggested the whole relationship to begin with and--”

“I’ll do it,” Richie says, feigning annoyance, “I’ll take one for the team. I’ll sex Ben Hanscom, hottest man alive.”

“No fair!” Eddie complains, “What, are you going to kick me out just so you can have your way with--”

“Yes,” Richie says, “Go cuddle Mike, I’m sure he’s still up.”

Eddie grumbles as he trudges out of the room in his underwear, one arm on a crutch. He flips Richie off with the other as he makes his way down the hall to the room Mike has all to himself, the lucky bastard.

“Now, about the sexing,” Richie hums, pulling Ben into the room and shutting the door. Ben still looks mortified.

To be honest, Richie’s just as in the dark about this as Ben. He’s not, like, an expert or anything, but he did spend ten years living outside of SoCal, trying to quote-unquote _make it_ as a comedian. They were pretty nutty about safe gay sex down there, and Richie spent probably thousands of hours at bar open mic nights, so he knows a little. But he doesn’t know anything about being good at sex, and he _certainly_ doesn’t know anything about helping someone be comfortable with something they’ve never done before.

While he’s trying to think about what happened during his first Craigslist hookup with a guy, Richie stares blankly at Ben’s face. He really is hot as hell. He’s tall, and a little scruffy, and if Richie didn’t know better, he’d totally think he was about to get fucked nice and roughly.

“Are you going to--uh--” Richie cuts Ben off by kissing him. Ben stands there like a deer in headlights. Richie pulls back to see Ben’s eyes wide.

“I didn’t hate that,” Ben says, like he’s documenting the experience. Richie waits for Ben to kiss him, then, and he does. It’s sweet and tender and Richie’s hands come up to cup Ben’s face. Ben kisses just like Richie thought he would.

Richie thinks he’s gotta be really gentle with this one. He doesn’t want to spook him. So he drops his hands and sneaks his way under Ben’s shirt, pulling it up over his head. Ben’s abs are still there, a little less prominent now that he’s not dehydrated, but he’s still drool-worthy. Richie places a hand on Ben’s abs, a little mesmerized. 

“Why does this always happen?” Ben sighs. He doesn’t sound like he’s complaining.

Richie groans a little. “I must have been a saint in a past life to deserve this.”

“You--really, I don’t--” Ben stammers. Richie helps Ben out of his shirt, puts his hands on Ben’s waist, and pulls him in for another kiss.

Ben’s oddly pensive as Richie strips down to his underwear. “You know, it’s a lot more fun if you get naked.”

“I just--” Ben swallows, “I don’t know.”

Richie pauses and sits down on the bed. “You don’t have to do this. Really. I won’t be mad or anything.”

Ben sits next to Richie and flops down on his back. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Secrets? Are you kinky?” Richie teases, laying on his side, eyes gleaming.

Ben huffs out a laugh. “No, I--I don’t know, I guess. I’ve had sex maybe three times since I left Derry. I was drunk all three times and every time I tried it sober I had a panic attack and--I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t like--I just--all I could think about was how disgusting I was. Even when I lost the weight, I always felt like they were going to start laughing and show me the hidden cameras.”

Richie shuts up for five seconds, brain wheeling. “I’ve had more sex than Ben Handsome. I can _not_ believe this.”

“Ha ha,” Ben rolls his eyes, “Seriously.”

“You know,” Richie says, feeling a burst of inspiration, “I’d fuck you even if you were still fat. If you were the ugliest man alive, I'd still want to fuck you.”

Ben raises an eyebrow at him, completely unbelieving.

“I mean, it’s not like the gay scene in SoCal is _completely_ twink-dominated,” Richie draws a line down Ben’s stomach with his thumb, and feels the goosebumps raise up there, “I can take care of you, Benny-boy.”

Ben nods vigorously. “I’d like that a lot, Rich.”

“Good. Lights on or off?” Richie asks as he gets up. Ben takes his cue to strip down more, revealing his still-thick thighs, which make Richie a little lightheaded. “Off, please.”

Richie complies, flinging himself back onto the bed with all the grace of a five-year-old. “Come here.”

Ben gets up and moves over to Richie, and Richie hugs him and kisses down his neck. Ben lets out a little groan as Richie sucks a hickey onto his shoulder.

“What do you like?” Richie asks, lightly scratching up Ben’s sides. He moves so he’s on top, straddling Ben’s hips.

“I like--I don’t know. What do _you_ \--”

“Nice try, Glenjamin,” Richie says, laying a kiss on Ben’s chest, “What do you dream about? Tell me your wildest fantasies, cowboy.”

Ben laughs. “It’s embarrassing.”

“We’re about to touch dicks. There’s nothing more embarrassing than that,” Richie says, rolling his hips down onto Ben’s lap. Ben’s head hits the pillow and he groans again, a little sound that Richie wants to have played at his funeral.

“I--I want to make you feel good,” Ben says, in a mortified whisper, like that's anything to be mortified about and not the point of sex. Richie feels Ben’s breath speeding up a little, and he’s not sure if it was panic or not. He stops and leans down to kiss his forehead.

“You’re doing such a good job,” Richie praises, “This is about both of us. I want to make you feel even better. Take a deep breath with me. How are you feeling?”

Richie takes Ben’s hand and holds it to his chest, and Ben takes a deep breath. Richie lets air fill his lungs and even if it’s not super sexy, Ben needs it right now, which is okay.

“I’m good--I’m good, keep going,” Ben says, kind of breathless.

“You’re allowed to touch me,” Richie says back, pressing a kiss just below Ben’s ear, “In fact, it’s encouraged.”

Ben laughs again, but his hands come up to Richie’s waist and he rubs little circles into Richie’s hips. “What do _you_ like?” He asks again.

Richie hums, hands sliding over Ben’s chest. “Well, if we’re being fully transparent. I like just about everything. The best sex is just like the best food though. I call it _white people spicy_.”

Ben cracks out a giant bellowing laugh that comes out as more of a wheeze.

“You know?” Richie laughs along, “Not enough to hurt, just enough to give it that extra little kick?”

Richie kisses Ben again, but they’re both smiling too much for it to really go anywhere. Richie runs his thumbs over Ben’s nipples, and he arches into it.

Richie kisses down Ben’s chest and situates himself between his legs. Ben realizes what he’s doing, but doesn’t move to stop him, and his hands tangle in Richie’s hair.

“Feel free to pull on it just a little,” Richie suggests as he pulls Ben’s boxers over his hips. Richie is somewhat proud when he sees Ben’s dick in the dim moonlight. It’s hard and thick and _leaking_ , which means Richie’s probably doing something right.

He’s done this before, but he still wants to take his time, so he finishes undressing Ben and kisses his thighs. Ben grumbles, but he goes completely silent when Richie sucks a hickey into the skin there.

“ _Oh_ ,” Ben says, voice whisper-soft. His hands tighten in Richie’s hair just a little.

Richie leaves lovebites all the way up to Ben’s dick, which looks painfully hard. Richie finally takes pity on him and licks up the shaft, and he hears Ben’s first real moan of the night. It’s breathy and Richie thinks he might come then and there, but he takes Ben in his mouth anyway. Richie looks up at Ben to see his eyes closed and his head tipped back. Richie commits it to memory, because he’s a man with needs.

Richie palms himself through his briefs and sucks Ben off with a single-mindedness. Ben’s thighs start to tremble, and his hips jut forward, pushing just a bit farther than Richie would have liked. He coughs and comes up for air.

“Oh--shit, sorry,” Ben starts to apologize, but Richie cuts him off.

“It’s fine! I mean it,” Richie says, “Do you want to keep going?”

Ben nods hesitantly, and Richie comes up to kiss him before moving back down. He works down at the base with his free hand, the other one still hard at work. Richie takes him down as far as he can go, and Ben moans out Richie’s name.

“God, Rich,” Ben groans, “I’m not gonna last much longer if you keep doing that.”

Richie pops off Ben’s dick, stroking him and kissing up his abs. “It’s okay. You’re doing so well, Ben. Felt so good.”

Richie kisses Ben’s neck and Ben shoots over both their stomachs. Richie’s not far behind, but Ben pulls Richie’s hand off his own dick and takes over.

“Let me help you out,” He says, and his hands are so _wide_ and _thick_ and work-toughened and it takes about five seconds for Richie to come because Ben moves hard and fast and flicks his thumb over the head. Richie moans as he comes, and Ben kisses him.

“That was… really good,” Ben admits, “No hidden cameras?”

“Not a single one,” Richie promises. Ben gets up first, gets a washcloth from Richie’s en suite and wipes them down, throwing it in the hamper and crawling into bed with his boxers on.

“I think I might be a little gay,” Ben confesses, as if it were a secret, opening his arms for Richie to cuddle with him.

Richie laughs. “Just a little.”

**III: Mike Hanlon**

There’s a little grace period where everyone slowly but surely becomes more couple-y. They’re not really sure how it’s supposed to work as a group thing, but after Eddie was sexiled from his own room and forced to wander the halls like a _creep, Richie, thank you very much_ , he gets a little more physical with Mike. Bev kisses everyone good morning, Bill and Stan disappear after dinner one night and reappear the next morning with serious sex hair.

Richie’s a little horny. It happens. He’s a grown man, he’s allowed to have desires.

“Not today,” Eddie says, peering at Richie from above his book. It’s about PT exercises for his legs, “Any other time, but right now I’m busy.”

Richie huffs and draws his hand away from Eddie’s leg. He sounded serious, so Richie looks elsewhere. He stops outside Bev’s room and knocks on the door before letting himself in. Bev’s at her desk, facing away from Richie.

“What do you want?” She asks, completely impatient, hand-sewing something.

Richie closes the door and walks away. He opens the door to Bill’s room, next, but it’s empty, so he tries Mike’s.

“How’s it hanging, Mikey?” Richie asks. Mike glares at him, but it’s not a _no_ , and he doesn’t look too busy.

Mike sighs and puts his book on his nightstand. “What do you want, Richie?”

“I want you to put your dick in me,” Richie says without a pause, completely unabashed. Mike looks… some sorta way.

“I--that’s very forward, Richie,” Mike says, like it’s some shock that Richie’s trying to get some.

Richie grins, shutting the door behind him. “I’m not hearing a no!”

“Fine. I will,” Mike pauses for dramatic effect, “Put… my dick in you.”

He says it like it’s some sort of chore. For a split second, Richie thinks he might be saying it just to get Richie out of his hair, but then Mike smiles and they both laugh. Richie eventually lands at the foot of Mike’s bed. Mike swings his legs out and scoots closer to Richie, who meets him in the middle for a kiss.

Mike’s a fantastic kisser. He’s got full lips and he’s never been able to grow facial hair so his chin is smooth on Richie’s face. Mike lets out a surprised noise as Richie straddles him and pushes him back onto the bed.

“I thought I was the one putting my dick in _you_ ,” Mike says, before grabbing Richie and flipping them over. Richie lands with his head on Mike’s pillows, Mike’s face grinning above him.

Richie’s a little dazed, but moreso turned on. “Warn a guy next time!”

“Oh--shit, Rich, are you okay?” Mike’s smile falls from his face, “Sorry, I--”

“No, Mikey,” Richie rolls his eyes, “God, you sound like Ben. We can talk about it first, though.”

Mike gets off of Richie, unfortunately, and sits up next to him. “Okay, talk.”

“I think I’ve been pretty transparent about what I want here,” Richie says, “It’s really just up to you how this happens. I’m not very picky.”

“Here’s the thing,” Mike says, and it sounds a lot like he’s about to say something very disappointing, “I’m not very… experienced.”

“Really?” Richie rolls his eyes, “The librarian that spent twelve of the last twenty-seven years coked up on some mystery drug hasn’t had a lot of experience?”

“Hey! I’ll have you know it was because I couldn’t stop thinking of you guys,” Mike looks away, clearly embarrassed, “It’s. I. Every time I would bring someone back to my place, I could only think of how I _should_ be thinking of how to stop It and save you guys.”

“Aw, Mikey,” Richie coos, “You shouldn’t have.”

Mike frowns. “Yeah, well, I did, so if you want to go, I dunno, fuck someone with actual experience, I wouldn’t blame you.”

“I tried, because I didn’t actually think you’d be into me,” Richie says, “And they all said no. So it’s you or my hand, and you are the much more handsome option. And like I said, I’m not picky. Good sex takes practice. I won’t hold inexperience against you.”

Mike looks a little stunned. “That’s… very mature. Who are you, and where have you hidden Richie Tozier?”

“It’s all me, baby!” Richie grins, opening his arms and pressing wet, sloppy kisses to Mike’s cheek, “Are you gonna fuck me or not? I brought lube and condoms.”

Richie produces the bottle and packet, wiggling them in a way that’s supposed to be enticing. Mike glares at him.

“Take off your clothes. I’ll hit the lights,” Mike says, getting up and locking the door while he’s at it. Richie does, he strips down all the way because he wasn’t wearing underwear.

Mike doesn’t miss that he wasn’t wearing underwear. “Wow, you really were set on getting laid tonight, weren’t you?”

“What’s the point of having six hot roommates if I can’t have a nice orgasm when I want to?” Richie defends himself, laying down on top of Mike’s covers. Mike shoos him off the bed and removes his nice blankets, saving them from the washer.

“Lay down,” Mike says, gently. Richie hums and lays back on the pillows, hands under his head.

Mike kisses his shoulder. “I’m not… really sure what to do.”

“You put your fingers in my ass, first, to stretch it,” Richie says, a little impatient. Mike moves to do it and Richie interjects, “But sexy! You have to be sexy about it!”

Mike sighs and laughs. “How the fuck am I supposed to make this _sexy_ , Richie?”

“Tease it first, a little,” Richie directs him. Mike hums, rubbing his finger over Richie’s hole once before pushing his finger in. Mike’s got thick fingers, work-toughened ones, and it feels really nice. Richie grunts a little as Mike starts to pump his finger in and out.

“Add-add another,” Richie says when he feels stretched enough. Mike does as he’s told. “And keep working them like that, just keep stretching it out.”

Mike kisses Richie’s shoulder again. “How does that feel?”

“It feels great, Mikey, just--” Richie angles his hips differently, “Just go a little deeper and-- _yes_!”

Mike grins into Richie’s shoulder and does it again, hits Richie’s prostate.

“A third finger would be great right about now,” Richie groans. Mike, ever the angel, adds the extra finger in.

“Wait, slow down,” Richie blinks, trying to get used to it.

Mike looks up at him. “Are you okay? Do you need to stop?”

“No, no--I just, I just need a moment,” Richie breathes, “Okay. You can move, slowly.”

Mike brushes a thumb over Richie’s nipple, and Richie’s breath hitches. Mike’s hand drops down to Richie’s dick and he strokes him a few times, getting Richie to relax. He's a natural.

Mike’s fingers start to pick up speed at Richie’s insistence, making little squelching noises every time they scissor out.

“Okay! Okay, I’m good, I’m good, Mikey,” Richie says, fast, because he’s awfully close to coming just from this. Mike pulls his fingers out and Richie hears the foil of the condom wrapper. It’s thirty years and also five seconds before Mike is lined up with Richie’s hips, pressing into him slowly.

Mike’s _big_. His fingers were big, of course, but he’s also six foot four inches tall and he wears shoes the size of Manhattan, Richie should have known he’d be this big. Richie arches his back and gasps.

“Are you okay?” Mike asks for the gazillionth time that night.

Richie feels at once impatient and in love. “Yes! Yes, I’m all right, in fact, I’m doing perfect, except my loving caring partner isn’t moving. Mikey, I’m telling you right now, you will not break me. _Please_ , just fuck me.”

Mike says what might be the hottest thing Richie’s ever heard. “I really like it when you beg like that.”

“Please, Mike, for the love of all that is holy I need you to fuck me _right now_ ,” Richie says, the words leaving in a way that sounds more like a babble, “Please, Mike, you feel _so good_ and I just need you to--”

Mike pushes the rest of the way in, so their hips are flush. Richie’s moan cuts off whatever else he was going to say, and Mike starts moving, thank _God_. Richie’s legs are hooked over Mike’s hips, and Mike bends down to kiss him. Richie can feel every centimeter of Mike when he moves.

“God, you’re so hot,” Mike says, and who knew _Mike_ of all people would be a talker in bed? Richie doesn’t mind, though.

Richie’s arms loop around Mike’s neck. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Mike hums, kissing Richie’s chin, “You take it so well, Rich.”

Richie knew he had a praise thing, but Mike’s words really do go straight to the mounting pressure in his gut. “Mikey,” He groans out, shifting to get a better position. Mike’s got a fantastic rhythm going, strong and solid, and for a librarian who’s reportedly been going through a dry spell, he’s fantastic at this.

“I’m gonna come,” Richie breathes, and Mike picks up the pace even more, rocking the bedframe. Richie’s gonna lose it, he keeps chanting a litany of _Yes, yes, yes, yes_ , which urges Mike on even more.

Richie comes and he can see stars. He comes down from it to find that Mike has stilled inside him. He’s still hard, though. Richie’s not sure how he’s got this much stamina.

“You can keep going,” Richie says, eventually, and Mike does. Richie’s a little sensitive, but it still feels good, and Mike looks like he’s having the time of his life.

Richie kisses Mike’s shoulders, this time. “You take such good care of me, baby. Did just what I wanted.”

Mike moans, pressing his face into Richie’s neck and bottoming out as he comes. He pulls out of Richie, ties off and throws away the condom, and offers a hand to help Richie up.

“We should clean up,” Mike says, when Richie doesn’t take it right away. Richie sighs, standing up and feeling a little wobbly.

“I think you just fucked my brains out, dude,” Richie says, gripping onto Mike for some stability. When Mike looks at him, eyes full of concern, Richie feels a pang of guilt. “No! It’s not, like, bad, or anything. I just came really hard after what was basically a full workout. Let’s clean up.”

They do a shit job of cleaning up, tossing the bedsheet into the clothes bin and getting a new one from the hall closet. They wipe themselves up with baby wipes, and they go to bed. Richie’s exhausted.

**IV: Bill Denbrough**

Richie decides it’s in his best interest to sleep with all the Losers. He figures one of them has to be the designated slut, and Bill’s already the designated idiot, so the title should be passed down to him.

He noticed it before, of course, but now that he knows he’s entitled to look, he can’t stop looking at Bill. He’s filled out over the years, but he’s kept himself in shape. Or something close to it. He’s got a _great_ ass, though. And, much to Richie’s dismay, he flaunts it. He starts wearing jorts again-- _God, the jorts_ \--and as much as Richie hates to admit it, the ones he cuts especially short really do make his ass look fantastic. 

The first day he wears them, he walks into the already-crowded kitchen and all the losers go completely silent. Stan puts down his book, about to ask what the big deal is, when he sees Bill in short-shorts and closes his mouth.

Bill bites into a muffin. “Whaff?”

“Nothing!” Mike says, but Richie swears he hears Bev say something along the lines of “run that dumb idiot bubble butt into the ground.”

Whatever it is, Ben says, “You do that, sweetie.”

It takes Richie all of three days to lose his mind. The short-shorts become Bill’s favorite pair. He keeps talking about how _comfortable_ they are, and even when he isn’t wearing them, Richie’s eyes are always drawn to his ass. Bill’s got just… the best set of thighs Richie’s ever seen. He’s decided that’s the secret, like wine and cheese. 

Richie’s never had the urge to eat someone’s ass before, but he can understand it now.

“Hey, Rich?” Bill asks one day, when they’re chilling together on the couch. Richie’s running his fingers through Bill’s hair, because that’s his favorite activity on the planet.

“Yeah, Billy-bee?” Richie hums, pressing his thumbs into Bill’s scalp. Bill leans into the touch.

“Why do you guys stare at me sometimes?” Bill asks, and Richie looks at him with wide eyes. 

There’s no way he doesn’t know. “I--what?”

“Like, is there some joke I’m not in on or something?” Bill looks genuinely hurt, and Richie fights back the urge to laugh. “Like, sometimes I walk into the room and there’s just dead silence. Why?”

“I--uh--Bill, you’re kidding, right?” Richie raises an eyebrow at him. Bill looks like he’s about to cry.

“Rich,” Bill says, and Richie takes pity on him and kisses his forehead.

“I’m sorry, it’s just--it’s funny,” Richie assures him, “We can’t help it sometimes. You’ve got a really nice butt.”

Bill’s silent for a full thirty seconds. “Wait, really?”

“Yes! And you started wearing those shorts for some godawful reason, because you want to torture us,” Richie throws his hands up, forgetting they’re tangled in Bill’s hair, “And I--oh shit, sorry--and it just drives us all _wild_ , man, like, we’re all gonna start a support group or something.”

“Oh,” Bill blushes. He doesn’t flush deep red like Ben does, but it’s a little tinge of pink on his cheeks. It’s adorable. “I don’t--I’ve never been told that my butt’s cute before.”

“It’s not,” Richie insists, “It’s _hot_. It’s perky, it’s round, it’s--”

“Okay, you don’t need to describe my own ass to me,” Bill says, blushing again, “What do you intend to do about it?”

“Well, preferably, whatever you want me to,” Richie says, “But I, personally, would like to eat it out.”

“You can do that?” Bill looks outright shocked, like he didn’t know. Richie realizes he _didn’t_ , he’s been having boring straight people sex for years, and Richie suddenly feels like he has a _duty_ to eat Bill out.

Richie places his hand on Bill’s shoulder and tries not to laugh. “Oh, Billiam, you poor, poor soul.”

Bill stands up, putting his beautiful ass directly within Richie’s line of sight. “Are you coming, then?” He asks, walking away and swaying his hips for extra effect. Richie almost faints, but he luckily has enough sense to scramble to his room and collect some stuff.

Bill cleans himself up, Googling _how to clean yourself before having your ass eaten_ so he doesn’t give Richie pink eye on accident. The internet is very helpful. Also, very colorful. The webpages are _very_ illustrated and Bill has a hard time focusing on the task at hand and not jerking it in the shower.

When he’s done, Richie is sitting on the bed, looking--and feeling--like an overexcited toddler. He’s just in his briefs, which is fine, because Bill’s just in his short shorts.

“God, you went commando under jorts for _me_?” Richie says, like it’s the most romantic thing he’s ever seen. Bill rolls his eyes and steps out of them. Richie’s eyes widen.

“Bill,” Richie sighs, palming himself through his briefs. Bill bends over to kiss Richie.

Richie breaks the kiss, pupils blown wide. “On the bed. Elbows and knees, ass up.”

Bill hums, moving like Richie says. Richie gets up behind him, on his knees, and spreads Bill’s thighs apart. Bill shivers at the touch.

“God, fourteen year old me would be shitting himself if he knew this would happen one day,” Richie says, almost dreamily, kissing the small of Bill’s back. “Tell me what you like.”

“I like-- _hhhmg_ \--I like it a little rougher,” Bill says, letting out a noise when Richie touches his ass, “Mostly I just like the attention.”

“Oh?” Richie says, pressing a thumb to Bill’s hole, “The attention?”

Bill shudders. “The--I like the intimacy. _Please_ , Rich, keep doing that.”

Richie slides his hand away from Bill’s ass and over his thighs. Bill whines, honest-to-God whines, and Richie wonders how he got this lucky. “I can do intimacy.”

Richie kisses down Bill’s spine, slowly, leaving hickeys over his back. He pauses when he gets to Bill’s ass, leaving a lovebite on the inside of his thigh. He spreads Bill’s cheeks gently and licks a long stripe up from his balls to his hole. Bill moans.

Richie could die like this. Bill’s hips move of their own accord as Richie licks over his ass. Richie slides a finger into Bill’s hole, not even needing lube.

“Did you stretch yourself out?” Richie asks, a little breathless.

Bill grunts. “Tried. Didn’t wuh-work out great.”

“Do you own lube?” Richie lets out a little half-laugh.

Bill laughs too. “Not a drop.”

“Wow. I--let’s fix that, then,” Richie uncaps the lube and introduces it to the party, rubbing his fingers together to get the lube warm and then he slides two fingers into Bill, relishing the little gasp that leaves him. Richie kisses the small of his back and starts moving, slipping a third finger in and stretching him properly. Bill relaxes, and Richie rewards him by stroking him a few times before pulling out.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Richie asks, as if there’s any possibility Bill could say no.

Bill nods. “ _Please_.”

Richie pulls on the condom and lines up, pushing in all the way in one long go. Bill doesn’t even wait three seconds before he starts to move. Richie puts his hands on Bill’s hips and moves a little faster.

“ _Ruh-Ruh-Richie_ ,” Bill moans, “Fuh-faster!”

Richie complies, setting a grueling pace that he’s not sure is entirely contained, noise-wise, in the room, especially with Bill’s continuous stream of grunts and moans. Bill doesn’t talk much, but he’s pretty loud, crying out when Richie gets the angle _just right_. Richie has an idea, so he reaches forward and traps both of Bill’s wrists under his hand, fingers splayed.

“Is this okay?” Richie asks, and Bill doesn’t answer, so he stops and waits.

Bill stutters out, eventually, “Yuh-yuh-yuh- _yes_!” so Richie keeps going, pinning Bill below him. He can feel the curve of Bill’s ass against his hips, and it’s… fantastic.

Richie reaches below him to jerk Bill off in time with their hips to find Bill leaking. He gets three strokes in before Bill comes all over the bed, and Richie’s right behind him, buried deep in Bill’s perfect ass.

Richie disposes of the condom, and Bill whines until he comes and cuddles with him.

“We haven’t cleaned up yet,” Richie points out, because there’s a wet spot on Bill’s sheets. Bill shrugs and cuddles in closer to Richie.

“Since when have we cared?” He says, and he makes a very good point.

**V: Stanley Uris**

The next person Richie checks off his list is Stan. Stan’s been very reserved and quiet, even more so than he used to be. At first, Richie assumed he had just gotten more timid with age, but he doesn’t even join conversations any more. 

Richie walks into another conversation he definitely isn’t supposed to see one day.

“What’s wrong?” Bev says, having cornered Stan in the living room. Stan looks up at her like he doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

He blinks, suspicious. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re not talking. What’s wrong?” Bev asks again, concern evident in her eyes.

Stan sighs, figuring out that the game is up. “I’m just… I get this feeling, when I’m around you all. You’re just so… _happy_ together, and I feel like… like I just don’t--”

“Stan,” Richie speaks up, and the both jump and stare at him and _how_ does he keep doing this, “You’ve always been my best friend, you know that, right?”

“But, Eddie--”

“Eddie’s different,” Richie says, sitting down on the couch next to Stan, “You’ve always been the best at listening to me. You know, when we were fighting the clown--you know what got me to stay?”

Stan shakes his head, looking down at his toes. His hands are clenched, wrinkling the fabric of his pressed slacks.

“I went past our old synagogue,” Richie says, because it’s true, “I remembered your bar mitzvah speech. God, you were an awkward motherfucker, but you were always my best friend, Stan. If you didn’t--if you didn’t survive the clown, I don’t know what I would have done.”

Richie’s voice cracks over the last sentence. Bev reaches over and kisses Richie’s forehead, and Stan hugs Richie, gives him one of his _real_ hugs, which are once-in-a-lifetime. They’re desperate, and huge, and warm. Richie loves Stan’s real hugs.

Richie realizes Stan’s shaking. “Hey, Staniel, it’s okay! You’re okay.”

Bev rubs circles into Stan’s back, and Stan _holds_ Richie like his life depends on it.

“I just always have trouble with--feeling like I’m intruding, I guess,” Stan says, wiping at his eyes, “I’m not the most… anything. I’m not kind or smart or strong or--”

“ _Stan_ ,” Bev says, admonishing, “You are perfect.”

“I tried to kill--” Stan takes a shaky breath, “I couldn’t even make it back to the reunion, Bev! I was too much of a coward to even--”

“ _Stan_!” Bev says, a little louder, and Stan properly shuts up, “You _are_ brave. And smart. And kind. And even if you weren’t those things, you’d still be deserving of love. You’re the thing that keeps us all going, Stan. You’ve always been the thing that keeps us going.”

“That’s Bill,” Stan sniffs.

Richie rolls his eyes, a perfect imitation of Stan. “And who do you think he does it for, huh? Who do you think we _all_ do this for?”

Stan sighs, loosening his hold on Richie. “Well, I guess I’ll never get you stubborn bastards to change your mind.”

“Never,” Bev agrees, “So you might as well accept it.”

Stan laughs, and Bev kisses his cheek. Richie gives him a proper kiss, on the lips, soft and endearing. Stan’s hand circles the back of Richie’s neck, holding him in place. Bev wolf-whistles.

“Oh, you’re gonna get it for that one, Marsh,” Richie threatens, reaching over to tickle Bev.

Stan’s at his and Eddie’s door that night. Eddie welcomes him into their bed--Eddie’s been a lot less freaked out at the prospect of other Losers in his bed recently--and Stan curls up between them. Stan kisses Richie passionately, lets his tongue lick into Richie’s mouth. His fingers tangle into Richie’s hair.

“Let me make you feel good,” Stan offers, kissing down Richie’s chest. As much as Richie feels like this is a dream he doesn’t want to end, he pulls Stan back up.

“Let’s talk about this,” Richie says, softly, “I don’t want you to make a mistake.”

“And I would also like to have a word,” Eddie says, disgruntled, “Because I was about to go to bed.”

“Go cuddle Mike,” Stan and Richie say at the same time. Eddie slams his book on the bedside table and hobbles out into the hallway. On his way out, he flips them off, but he’s smiling. He always sleeps better in Mike’s room anyway.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Richie asks when the door closes again, “I--I trust your judgment, but I don’t want you to make a decision you’re going to regret later and--”

“Rich,” Stan rolls his eyes, because he’s _Stan_ , “I want nothing more in the world than to suck your dick right now. I suggest you let me.”

“Okay,” Richie says, and Stan goes right back to work kissing down Richie’s chest. It’s a good thing Richie sleeps shirtless.

Stan doesn’t even bother to take Richie’s sweats off, just frees his dick and licks up to the tip, all business and intent. It’s a look that could only be sexy on Stan.

“Have you done this before?” Richie asks, gasping as Stan sucks on the head of his cock.

Stan pops off for a second. “I went to college.”

“Not everyone learns how to suck dick so well at college,” Richie scowls, “ _And_ you were an accounting major.”

“My wife was into threesomes,” Stan shrugs, “I was accommodating.”

“You were also into threesomes,” Richie guesses, and Stan nods with a grin. He goes back to work, fingers digging into Richie’s thighs a little harsher.

Richie groans. “ _Fuck_.”

“Thought you’d like that,” Stan says, finally slipping Richie’s sweats and briefs down over his hips in one fluid motion. Stan scratches down the inside of Richie’s thighs, and Richie’s breath catches in his throat.

“You’re much sexier when you quit talking,” Stan muses, hand working over Richie’s cock, “You know, Ben told me about the _white people spicy_ thing.”

Richie laughs. “Oh, did he?”

“Like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard,” Stan grins, scratching down Richie’s thighs again. He looks down at Richie’s dick, watching it twitch when he ran his nails over Richie’s thighs.

“It was the funniest thing he’s ever heard,” Richie insists. Stan playfully slaps the inside of his thigh, not nearly hard enough to hurt or even sting.

“What did I say about shutting up?” Stan says, stroking Richie’s cock teasingly.

“ _Ugh_ , Stan, please,” Richie begs, “Literally, I’m so close.”

Stan obliges, sucking Richie off. It doesn’t take long, because Stan keeps looking up with saccharine eyes and scratching Richie’s thighs. Richie’s head tips back and he comes down Stan’s throat.

“My turn,” Richie says, pulling Stan up to kiss him. Richie reaches into Stan’s pajama pants, jerking him off. Stan’s pretty worked up, so it doesn’t take long until he spills out over Richie’s stomach.

They lay there for a while.

“That was really good,” Stan says, looking over at Richie and smiling serenely.

Richie kisses him. “You’re good. Like, way too good. How are you the most well-adjusted person here, like, sexually?”

“It’s a gift,” Stan shrugs, “Plus, I had a great wife. It’s great that we can still be friends, I think I’d miss her too much if I had to actually _choose_ between her and you guys.”

Richie hums in agreement. “Yeah. I’m glad you didn’t have to choose, too.”

Stan’s not much of a cuddler, but after they shower and clean up, he cuddles with Richie until they’re both fast asleep.

**VI: Beverly Marsh**

One day, Bev slams a box down on the kitchen table. “I’ve got a delivery!”

She seems _so_ excited. It's almost suspicious

“What is it?” Ben asks. In response, Bev pulls out a purple dildo.

Bill spits out his pancakes. “ _Bev_!”

Bev pulls out the rest of the package, a black harness. “What?”

“I’m eating!” Bill protests.

Bev turns to look at him. “And? Like this gets in the way of that?”

Bill sets his plate on the counter. “I don’t want to see dildos when I’m eating!”

“I’d like to propose a competition,” Bev says, “Whoever wins, gets topped by me tonight. The first Loser to get topped by Beverly Anne Marsh.”

“What’s the competition?” Ben looks way too invested in this.

“Whoever can get me the best present by the end of the day wins,” Bev says with a smile.

Eddie taps out. “Listen, Bev, it’s nothing personal--”

“I get it, you get a free pass,” Bev waves him off, “It’s fine, honey. Let’s go judge people together and window shop.”

Window shopping, when you’re rich, is a pointless activity, but Eddie looks thrilled. They put on their winter coats and go off to the nearest city, Billings, which is a forty-five minute drive. They’ll be gone all day.

In the meantime, Ben’s already in his car, Stan’s on the phone with some fancy booze shop, Bill’s typing furiously on his laptop, and Mike’s brainstorming in his notebook. Richie’s thinking.

He wants to impress her, he wants to do something better than all the others, right? Not just for the opportunity of a lifetime, but mostly because he loves her. It’s a silly competition, and for the most part, they’re lighthearted and their antics are just for show, but they all really do want to find her a nice gift. Something she’ll love.

Richie knows just where to go.

Bev comes home with several bags on her arms, with Eddie in a similar state.

“Window shopping, huh?” Stan says, eyeing the bags.

Bev sets them down and passes by, wiggling her hips. “Looks like someone doesn’t have his eyes on the prize.”

Eddie laughs, and Stan’s trying his best to look apologetic. In the kitchen, there’s a pot of fresh pasta waiting for her, some sauce, and some wine.

“Allow me,” Mike says, pulling out her chair and plating up some of the noodles for her. It’s cheese sauce on top of some linguini, mushrooms and spices swimming in the sauce.

Bev smiles. “It looks delicious, Mikey.”

She kisses his cheek.

Stan takes that as his cue to push Mike aside and present the wine to her. “A ‘seventy-six bottle of Cabernet, from Nappa.”

Bev’s eyes sparkle. “It’s beautiful.”

Stan pours her the glass, and Bev kisses him on the cheek. Bill looks like he wants to talk, but Bev shushes him.

“I want to enjoy my meal first,” She says, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to them, “All of you, go grab something to eat. I don’t want to have dinner alone, without my favorite boys.”

They all scramble to grab some pasta, only partially because it looks so delicious. When they sit back down, Ben places some flowers in the table centerpiece.

“I didn’t just get you these,” He says, “But I figured they’d look best here.”

Bev hums in agreement, slurping obnoxiously on her pasta. Richie joins her immediately, glad this isn’t a contest based on etiquette. The competition is forgotten for approximately thirty minutes, and although there’s this halfway-awkward tension between Bill and Ben, they all listen to Bev and Eddie talk about funny things they saw at the mall.

“There was an end-of-times protester,” Eddie says, “And he was, like, talking about homosexuality and stuff, so I started talking equally loudly about how much I love taking it up the ass. He didn’t really appreciate that, but after I followed him around for ten minutes he finally picked up and left.”

“I have videos. I think I’ll put them on Twitter later,” Bev grins.

Richie laughs until he’s got tears in his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Eds, are you sure you’re not the comedian here?”

“You’ve never been funny,” Eddie says, but he’s smiling because _Richie_ laughed at his joke, so it really doesn’t sound mean at all, “Everything funny you’ve ever said was only funny because I said something after.”

The whole table roars at that, including Richie, and he can’t even be bothered to try to sound offended.

Everyone finishes their plate--Mike is the best cook on the planet, probably--and Bev looks around. “Who’s next?”

Bill and Ben both start talking at the same time, and Bev shushes them. “Only people who cooperate with each other get to go. Richie, what was your present?”

Richie smiles and walks off to his room. He comes back with a gift that’s been “properly” wrapped (it’s a mess of paper and tape). The paper says _You’re Two!_ in blocky blue font, clearly meant for a small child, but Richie thinks it’s perfect.

Bev unwraps it to find a box underneath. She glares at Richie. “You couldn’t even wrap a box right?”

“I got distracted!” Richie protests, “There was a funny video on Twitter and I only bought enough wrapping paper to try to wrap it three times.”

Bev seems speechless at that, but she pops the box open without needing scissors and takes out the ugliest robe she’s ever seen. It’s camo. “This, Richie, I--”

“There’s more,” Richie says. Bev reaches in and pulls out chunky, neon pink heels, leopard-print leggings, booty shorts that say _NASTY!_ across the ass, and a t-shirt with Richie’s face on it.

Richie looks very, very proud of himself. “I didn’t even have to have that shirt custom ordered. I found it in the thrift shop.”

Bev looks like she might cry. “Richie, this is--” She cracks up. She laughs so hard she’s on the floor, trying to breathe, tears running down her face.

Richie looks even more proud of himself. Bev kisses his cheek, and Richie feels victory in his very near future.

When she recovers, she has Ben go, because she doesn’t want Ben and Bill to start a nuclear war. Ben produces a book of poems.

“Look at the first page,” Ben smiles softly. Bev opens it, reading the most familiar set of words she’s ever known.

Bev’s still crying. “Ben, I--”

“I had this book specially printed for you,” Ben keeps going, “It’s… I only wrote the first one, but it’s a whole collection I put together.”

Ben’s bouncing up and down on his toes, like a nervous kid. Bev kisses his cheek.

“My turn,” Bill says, huffing, “ _Finally_.”

He hands Bev a little box. It’s long and Bev pulls out an absolutely gorgeous necklace. It’s got an ornate dragon pendant with an orange gem sitting in its mouth.

“It’s just like you,” Bill says, taking it from Bev and putting it around her neck, “Beautiful, strong, infinite.”

_Fuck_. Bill sounds like he’s practiced this. Richie forgets, sometimes, that Bill can have a way with words when he wants to.

“You’re just like a dragon,” Bill says, like it makes the most sense in the world. He kisses Bev’s neck and she leans into his touch, “You can breathe fire, Bev. I’ve seen you do it before. You could level whole towns if you wanted to. Destroy the bravest knight in the whole world. You, Beverly Marsh, are the sun.”

There’s a quiet moment after that, where Bill looks unbelievably smarmy. He’s proud of himself, and Richie bets it’s at least partially because he didn’t stutter once giving that speech. Bev kisses his cheek, and she's still crying. Then, she sits Bill down on the couch by Eddie, who leans into him and holds his hand, and she stands by the fireplace and clears her throat.

“Tonight was wonderful,” She says, wringing her hands, “And deciding is actually going to be a lot tougher than I thought it would be.”

_Uh oh_. Richie feels victory slipping away from his fingers. There goes his chance of getting pegged by Beverly Marsh.

“There’s no losers here,” She says, “Except all of you. You’re all losers, we’re all losers, except… Richie! Richie, you won, if you so choose to claim your prize.”

Richie feels like he’s won the lottery or something. He jumps up and hollers, dancing over to Bev and kissing her. She’s soft, but commandeering, kissing back with a fervor. Bill boos him, but Eddie wolf-whistles, and everyone else claps good-naturedly.

“What am I supposed to do now, huh?” Bill asks, “I’ve got all this pent-up energy and I don’t even get to--”

“Go fuck Ben,” Bev rolls her eyes, “That solves all of your problems. Wonderful excuse for some pseudo-hate sex.”

Bill huffs, glaring at Bev, as she grabs Richie’s hand and leads him to her room. Richie flips off the losers and gets dragged along, grinning from ear to ear.

Richie closes the door behind them and Bev immediately kisses him, backing him up against the door. She cups his face, biting at his bottom lip. Richie’s a little weak in the knees.

Richie kisses down Bev’s neck and she hums. “God, Rich. I’ve wanted to bend you over and fuck you for so long.”

“God, Bev, you can’t just say those things,” Richie says, “I’m gonna cream my pants like a teenager.”

Bev nips at Richie’s neck. “Good. I bet I could make you come again.”

Richie might pass out. “We should probably talk about this before--”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Bev nods, “Sit on the bed?”

They sit next to each other. Bev holds Richie’s hand. “What do you like?”

“I don’t know how many people Ben’s told about this, but I believe I once said that I liked it _white people spicy_ ,” Richie says, and Bev nods, “So, uh, don’t be afraid to go a little rough. I like getting my hair pulled. Dirty talk is absolutely a huge thing too. I like being bossed around a little--I meant it when I said you almost made me come in my pants.”

Bev laughs. “Do you need to go clean up first? I haven’t tried to put the strap on before, so it might take a little while.”

“Already cleaned myself up, but watching you struggle with the strap might be the highlight of my day,” Richie says. Bev crosses her arms at him.

“Get undressed, then,” Bev says, waiting. Richie stands up and does so, tossing his shirt over into the corner with a little flair. Bev laughs, dancing and taking her own shirt off.

“I’ve never been much of a boob guy,” Richie says, and Bev’s already laughing, “But, for the record, I think your boobs are really great.”

“Thanks, Rich, that means a lot to me,” Bev rolls her eyes, “When I said undresses, I meant all the way.”

Richie feels a little awkward, being fully undressed while Bev’s still in her jeans. Bev doesn’t take long, though, shimmying out of her pants. She does struggle a little bit with the strap-on, pulling it up and realizing it’s twisted.

“Here, let me help,” Richie says, because he can see a little better. He gets on his knees in front of her, adjusting it so it fits. Eventually, together they get it on straight.

“Next time, you should let me eat you out,” Richie says, kissing Bev’s stomach.

Bev groans a little. “Next time, could I ride your face?”

“It would be an honor,” Richie laughs a little, standing up and grabbing Bev’s hand, spinning her around, “How do you feel?”

“Perfect,” Bev kisses Richie, “But it’d be even more perfect if you could get on the bed, hands and knees.”

Richie’s practically scrambling to do so, and Bev turns on the vibrator at the base of the dildo. Richie thinks whoever thought of putting a vibrator at the base of a strap-on was a genius.

Bev upcaps a bottle of lube and lets a little drip down over Richie’s hole. She pushes his shoulders down until he’s dropped onto his elbows, face in the pillows.

“You look so beautiful right now,” Bev says, working one of her long, slender fingers into Richie, “All spread out for me.” She bites his shoulder, sucking a hickey into it. She adds another finger, and Richie groans. She mutters nothings about how good Richie is, how sweet he is, and it all goes right to Richie’s dick.

She stretches Richie with all the patience in the world. Unfortunately, Richie has the patience of a goldfish.

“Bev, I’m ready,” Richie says, even though he’s been ready for the last five minutes.

Bev hums. “I want to hear you beg.”

Richie moans, pressing his face into the pillows. “Bev--I want you to fuck me.”

It’s filthy, it’s a little mortifying, it’s _so_ hot. “Please, Bev, please fuck me.”

“You can do better,” Bev decides, fingers slowing to a halt. Richie pushes back on her fingers, desperate for any sort of friction.

“Bev! I need you,” Richie cries, “I need you to fuck me. I need you to put your dick in my ass. I need--I need--”

Bev complies, pushing in all the way to the hilt. Richie can feel the vibrator at his hole. It’s tight, it’s a stretch, but Richie moans out a _yes_ as Bev starts to move.

Bev’s dry hand runs up Richie’s back, tangling in his hair and lifting his head up. “Do you like being fucked like this, nice and hard?”

Richie’s brain is short-circuiting, so he tries to nod. “Yes! Yes, Bev, it feels so _fucking_ good.”

Bev’s other hand is at Richie’s waist, and she somehow picks up speed. Richie wonders if she’s been working out. The sound of skin-on-skin fills the room, and Richie thinks if this is how he dies, he’ll be a happy man.

Bev starts to hit her stride, keeping her rhythm as she pounds Richie into the mattress. “You’re being so good for me, baby.”

“Thank you,” Richie keens. “I’m gonna come! I’m gonna--”

Richie comes over the bedspread with a hoarse moan, and Bev fucks him through it. Her hips stutter as she comes, too. She pulls out of Richie.

“That was…” Bev says, breathing heavy. Richie agrees.

“I have never been more glad to win a dumb contest,” Richie says, flopping down on the bed, “Also, I think my ass is gonna be sore tomorrow.”

“Good,” Bev says, with something of an evil grin, “So every time you sit down, you can remember this.”

Richie thinks that’s the sexiest thing he’s ever heard.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me @ bevpegs on tumblr, leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed! thank you for reading, i love you all <3


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